His Beautiful Wench (24 page)

“One of Graham’s men?” Emmett whispered.

Amelia nodded once more, whispered, “Lock!” and raised her fist, biting her knuckles.

“Stay there, Matilda,” he said, voice low.

Lock moved away from the glass, gravel crunching as he made his way around to the back.

“Quickly!” Matilda said, scurrying into the kitchen. “Down into the basement before he walks past that window and sees you!”

Amelia hurried past the larder and into the laundry room. Emmett held her hand while she took the first few steps then followed her down into the bowels of the house. Matilda rushed in, closed the trapdoor, and the telltale sound of the scraping rug secured their hiding place.

At the bottom of the steps, Amelia turned in a circle, looking for somewhere to hide should Lock force his way into the cottage and discover them, but the absolute darkness stole her sight and upped her fear. She imagined the room in her mind. The only place she would fit was the large barrel and that would mean emptying it of water. The wet floor would alert Lock that someone had recently been down there and if she managed to fit inside, it would leave no place for Emmett to conceal himself except under the bed.

That will be the first place Lock checks.

She whispered, “Is it safe to put on a light?”

“Can you manage? I want to be ready in case—”

The pop of glass shattering resounded above and Amelia heard it as if through water—plopping as each piece hit the floor. She nearly shrieked again and hurried blindly toward the bed. Her skirt swayed, the rustle reminding her that not five minutes ago they had been enjoying the fresh air.
How quickly life can change.
She held back a nervous laugh and bumped her knee on the bedside cabinet. Reaching down, she fumbled for the matchbox. Her fingers brushed it and relief surged though her. With shaking hands, she took out a match and struck it, the flare instant and too bright. She cupped the flame and lit the lamp, the soft glow devouring only the immediate darkness but not erasing her fears. Matilda screamed and Amelia clamped her mouth shut to stop the same terrible noise coming from own mouth. She whirled to face Emmett, only just making out his shape in the gloom. A succession of thuds echoed and Matilda yelled, “Who are you? What do you want?”

Lock’s voice filtered to Amelia, low and ominous.

“I don’t know where they are!” Matilda screeched. “I last saw them yesterday when they left here to get married. Don’t you
dare
touch me! Get out! Go on, get out! And I’ll be sending a bill to Lord Graham for my broken window, make no mistake about that!”

The man’s tones hummed again and three short, sharp footsteps stomped as though he’d walked toward her.

“Did you not hear me?” Matilda said, her voice strident. “You had better leave. My women have instructions to contact the authorities should they not hear from me in two days. I suggest you go right this minute!”

He spoke again and Emmett gripped the stair rail, his foot poised to take the first step. Shuffles scraped the floor and Matilda squealed, an awful, pain-filled vocalization. An almighty thud had Amelia shaking.

Oh God…

Silence stretched for a long time. Another clack of footfalls and then the back door slammed. Amelia shook, terror pervading her whole body and she rushed to Emmett, clutching his arm.

“Don’t go up there yet. Wait for Matilda.
Please.
”

“But what if he’s hurt her?”

She took a deep breath. “Go.” Amelia released Emmett and prepared to follow him.

“Stay down here!” he whispered.

Though tempted to obey, and knowing she might witness something horrendous should the man still be upstairs, she ignored Emmett’s command and climbed the stairs after him. He struggled to lift the trapdoor, the heavy rug hampering his progress, but bright light soon filled the stairwell as he shoved the obstruction aside. Once in the laundry room, he stared down at Amelia and pointed at her.

“Stay down there!” he whispered again and crept out of view.

Determined to help despite the danger, she took the remaining steps and tiptoed across to the larder side of the room. Peering around the doorframe, she took in the sight of glass shards winking as the sunlight glanced off them, and the back of Emmett’s head peeping above the tabletop. With a quick look outside, she deemed it safe enough to enter the kitchen and rounded the table. Matilda lay on the floor, eyes closed, a slash of crimson on her cheek, her hair matted and darkened by blood. Streaks of red dripped from her cheek to her neck, pooling in the dip of her throat. Amelia whipped around to the sideboard, sight blurred, and yanked open the door, pulling out a drying cloth. She rushed to Matilda’s side and hunkered down, staunching the wound. The madam’s chest rose and fell and her eyelids flickered open. Amelia offered up a prayer of thanks. She looked at Emmett, whose jaw muscles clenched, his neck corded.

“Bastard!” He stood, stepped over Matilda and walked down the hallway to the bottom of the stairs. “I need to check he’s gone. I’ll be in the attic. I don’t like to leave you down here, but—”

“Just go!” Amelia said, lifting the cloth to check the state of the wound. She let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t as deep as she had feared.

Matilda tried to sit up. “Has he gone?”

Pressing her back down, Amelia said, “I think so. Emmett has just gone to check.”

“I’ll have that man’s bollocks,” Matilda said, raising her hand to press the cloth to her face. “He won’t get away with this.”

Amelia stood and helped Matilda to a chair. “But he’s in Graham’s employ. Who will go against the lord’s wishes and help you in any revenge attack on Lock?”

“I have my ways. Friends. And I can wait. He’ll be expecting retaliation, so I’ll bide my time until he thinks he’s safe. This is the second man to storm into my home and mark me. No one,
no one
will ever do that again.”

“I’m so sorry,” Amelia whispered.

Because of me, my friend has endured more than a friend should.
To hide her tears, she stood and prepared to make tea.

“I expected something like this in my profession,” Matilda said. “If it wasn’t Lock, it would have been someone else sooner or later. Don’t worry yourself. My main concern is getting you and Emmett away safely. A scratch on my face is the last thing on my mind.” Matilda stroked Amelia’s hair back from her face. “Everything will work out. I’ll make sure of that. I shan’t sleep tonight. I must visit Emmett’s crew and tell them to set sail. One of them can procure us a small boat and board with Emmett in the early hours, and we know what follows after that.”

A thud had Amelia glancing nervously out the window, then the back door. She clutched the teapot handle tighter and held her breath. As Emmett clattered down the stairs and entered the kitchen her arms and legs relaxed with relief.

“He’s gone. Saw him go into the forest.” He looked at Amelia. “You were right. It was Lock. That bastard Graham! I want to find him, hurt him, but your life means more to me than the satisfaction of confronting that man.” He sighed and clenched his fists. “I’ll board up the back door and then we wait it out until it’s time for me to go.”

Chapter Nine

Amelia opened her eyes, dimly aware of movement above, and squinted at the bright lamplight coming through the ceiling hatch. Matilda kneeled at the top of the stairs and peered down.

“It’s nearly time,” she said then rose, closing the trapdoor.

A lump filled Amelia’s throat and she leaned toward the cabinet and lit the lamp. Reclining once more, she rolled to her side and stared at Emmett, still sleeping, facing her. She memorized his face—every line, curve, swell and dip—imprinting his features in her mind, ready for when she drew them out again over the coming lonely days. Tears spilled and she let them fall to the pillow unchecked. She reached out and fondled a lock of his hair, the feel of it something she had loved since the first time she’d touched it. She wanted to rub her thumb over his cheekbone and down to his jaw but didn’t like to wake him. Not yet. A few more moments of study, that’s all she really wanted.

She smiled at the bow of his top lip and the memory of how his mouth felt on hers. Should she dare to kiss him now, the softest brush of her lips against his, the touch so brief it would fail to rouse him from slumber? His eyelids twitched beneath finely arched brows and, breath held, she waited for him to wake.

He slept on.

I want to see his blue eyes, see his expression as he looks at me and tell him with my gaze everything he needs to know. For I can’t speak yet. If I tried, nothing but garbled sounds would come out, I swear it.

She kissed Emmett’s nose tip, the need for him to wake rising inside her.

“I love you, Emmett Dray,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “I’ll love you until the day I leave this earth and beyond, and like you said, when we die, we’ll find one another again, somehow, some way. It’ll never be the end. Never.”

Matilda knocked on the trapdoor and Amelia held back a torrent of tears.

“Coming!” she called, her throat strained.

Emmett stirred and she watched him, rapt. His lids opened, black lashes so long and too pretty for a man, the blueness of his eyes startling in the lamp’s glow. His lazy smile appeared and vanished all too quickly as the significance of waking and what this day would bring hit him. His eyebrows drew together and deep lines scored his forehead. He crushed her to him, one arm about her back, the other in her hair, fingers stroking. She smoothed her hand up his back, fitting her palm over his shoulder blade, the bone a perfect fit.

Everything was a perfect fit until…

She refused to think further. They stared at one another, unspoken words flying between them, so much said in the quietude, their ragged breaths the only sounds. Unable to bear it any longer, she pressed her lips to his, squeezing her eyes shut. Fresh, hot tears seared her face, a cruel reminder that the day they had dreaded had finally come, ready to murder their physical bond, replacing it with that unseen thread that bound them together while apart.

I don’t want… I can’t… I…

He couldn’t bring her close enough—she yearned to meld with him, their bodies fusing into one being, always together, never to be parted again. She kissed him harder, showing him with her tongue and lips how she loved him so. Desire and the frantic need to have him one more time enveloped her. She broke the kiss and pushed him onto his back, straddling him, sinking down onto his cock, her juices flowing. Riding him hard and fast, she looked down at his face, their gazes locking, their silent communication erotic and sad and so very heartbreaking. Amelia leaned down to taste his mouth, to lick his lips, his neck, his earlobe. His hands warmed the base of her spine and she worked faster, needing immediate release. She trailed her tongue back down his neck and along his collarbone, tasting sweat and the maleness of him, unique to Emmett Dray. Upright now, her hands braced on his chest, she cried out as a riptide of pleasure speared her core. Her cunt throbbed around his cock and her thigh muscles ached, but she rode on, determined to reach her peak.

Emmett’s hands spanned her waist, his fingertips digging into her flesh. His hips bucked, sending his cock deeper, and she moaned as the tip butted the tenderness inside. He lowered his ass back to the bed and she plunged onto him, her pulsating nub rubbing his thatch of coarse hair, the graze heightening her fast-arriving bliss. He let go of her waist and cupped her breasts, kneading in rhythm with her movements. His thumbs brushing her nipples triggered her to the point of no return and she hung her head back, the burn of rippling excitement spreading from her nub to her center, branding her as Emmett’s woman forevermore.

She loosed a triumphant yell then whispered, “Harder, touch them harder.”

Emmett increased the pressure of his thumbs. Amelia’s body jolted as he groaned and her lust spilled, sweeping waves radiating throughout her body. His cock hardened further, widened, stretching her sheath, and he expelled his seed. She lifted her head and stared down at him, studied his face as another shot left him. He bit his lip, squeezed her breasts and jerked beneath her. Bliss dissipating, Amelia slowed, enjoying the slickness of his soaked cock. Her breaths left her in hurried pants, mirroring Emmett’s. She smiled and once again tears fell.

In five days, we will do this again. Just five more days
and we’ll be together
.

“Ah, my wench,” he whispered. “Don’t cry.”

She nestled beside him. “I can’t bear this,” she said, tilting her face to look at him. “Something inside me feels wrong, like I’m never going to see you again.”

He kissed her forehead, held her tighter. “I feel the same, but what choice do we have? If you come with me now, Graham will know we have fled together and he’ll come after us. This way he will hopefully think I’ll return, though when you disappear he will know what we’ve done and come after us then.”

“Oh God. We must go far away from here, somewhere he can’t find us. If something goes wrong, I can’t live without you, Emmett. I can’t. You’re a part of me, like you
are
me, the half that completes my soul.” She cupped his face with one hand, her thumb skimming his cheekbone. “Promise me…” She swallowed, not wanting to say the next words but knowing if she didn’t she would regret it. “Promise me, if the plan doesn’t work, if Graham finds you and something…terrible happens, wherever we go when we die… Come find me. And if something happens to me, I swear I will seek you out somehow. Find you.”